The Devil's Run

 

The television hung from an iron bar in the ceiling

Lying in the hospital after surgery

I watched the train called the Devil's Run

Twisting up the steep Andes' mountain

To the city of Quito

 

The locomotive pulled, switched tracks

During the two day trip,comraderie

Had grown among the passengers

They cheered the crew on

Shared beans and tortillas

 

When I roamed the hall last night

A patient with a hillbilly accent asked,

"What are you in for?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, you're not going to sleep well after tomorrow."

 

In my room, a nurse made the adjoining bed

White sheets flying in the air, smoothed

While a middle-aged black woman sweet talked her

"I wouldn't want to disturb this nice lady.

So you better give me a single. I just

Can't take pain and I'll scream all night."

Even as she left for her private domain

Her voice spun sugar, "That poor lady

Wouldn't get a wink of sleep with me there."

 

The train sang its song

Going to Quito, kee-toe, keeet

Up, up, up,

Eyes tearing, lungs bursting, dizzy

I vomited in high arcs across the bedcover

 

At the peak, the sun caught

Their round faces and dark eyes

Passengers and crew looking down

On crumbling stucco, gleaming tiled roofs

Broke into applause

Shouted, "!Lo ganamos!," "We made it!"

 

I pressed the call button for the nurse in the long corridor

A conductor of thermometers, paper cups and red, yellow and blue pills

An adjustor of I.V.'s, pricker of arms

A giver, thank God, of forgetfulness